


Revelations: Haunting Ground

by TheLadyFrost



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Haunting Ground - Freeform, Love Triangles, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: A girl. Two boys. Three friends. A castle with a nasty man. And a nightmare they never saw coming. The biggest Revelation here...is how she'll stand between them...and choose. Revelations AU - another romp in a familiar world...with an unfamiliar twist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I consider Revelations to be side stories told within the Resident Evil world. This isn't canon. It's not even close. It's so AU that it's basically a crossover with Haunting Ground. But everyone in it is Resi.

**Part One: The Ghosts That Haunt**

* * *

**_Chapter One: In Which We Meet A Girl With No Friends– And A Boy with No Hope -And A Boy with No Tact_ **

The police car was there again. Again.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd come home from school and not been afraid to see it. It was the colors that haunted her dreams. Blue and Red. Blue and Red. Blue and Red.

The colors of pain. The colors of loss. The colors of justice.

Something that meant it was time, again, for her to leave behind whatever little hole she was living in and go to another group home. This time it was to find her mother in handcuffs as they dragged her from the house. She was shouting and kicking. She was half naked. Her tank top was falling off her skinny torso, her nose was burst blood vessels and red…and bleeding.

Bleeding.

Because she'd snorted too much coke. She'd put her nose to too much blow and eradicated her septum. When she was wasn't spreading her legs for the money to pay for it, she was hanging with whatever pseudo lover she was currently letting slap her around trying to score more.

Noriko Ashiro had been a dancer once. The ballet. She'd been beautiful. She'd been swanlike. There were photos in the living room of her in Swan Lake. In the Nutcracker. Giselle. She was celestial. She was statuesque. She'd danced her way into the arms of the handsome, successful, and shallow Girard Valentin (Valentine by English distinction). Girard was French. He was all drama, all romance, all passion and excitement.

They'd travel and spend lavish amounts of money. He was involved in so many illegal things. But Noriko hadn't known. She'd loved him – madly, deeply, completely. Even when he'd started hitting her. She'd kept on loving him.

And she was so beautiful. Tall and lithe, graceful and pure. Blue eyes and black hair that swirled around her like a brilliant jet cape as she twirled. She'd birthed their beautiful daughter – Jillian. She'd been back on the stage four weeks later. She was dedicated and brilliant and loving. She'd spilled joy around her like magic.

As a little girl, Jill had spun in her little white tights and tutu, hoping for the day she could dance her way into the clouds beside her mama.

And then Noriko had stopped dancing.

One day, Jill had come home to find her on the floor in their little house in Greenwich Village in a pool of blood. Slit wrists and crying. Red in a dripping, dropping, dragging trail from the kitchen to the living room.

Noriko had set in the blood and cried, "When your heart dies, Jillian, when it dies…you must die with it…"

And Jill had known that her father was gone. He'd finally left. Or he'd just never come back.

But Noriko was inconsolable.

The cops had come for the first time. The paramedics. The flashing lights.

They'd taken her away for the first time to the group home. Noriko had gone away for awhile for suicide watch. Jill had gone to a foster home.

It wasn't so bad. That family had been kind. They'd wanted to adopt her.

But Noriko had come to get her. And she'd gone home, happy to be with her mama again.

The bills piled up. Girard would pay nothing. He'd divorced Noriko and left her penniless. He was lost somewhere in the wind. And the money ran out.

They moved. They moved again. Noriko had three jobs. She started disappearing at night and leaving Jill alone until morning. Eight years old and alone all night in a tiny apartment in the Bronx.

She'd come home with men. She'd come home high. Her face red, her nose red, her eyes red. She lost weight, her lithe frame was skeletal. Her hair was limp and strawlike. She started shouting and breaking things. She was always mad.

And the cops came again. She was in the street with some man slapping and screaming. They were both high. They were both bleeding.

The cops took Jill away again.

Another group home. This time no foster home. She was there for three months.

And Noriko came again to get her.

"It will be better, my bug, better."

It was never better.

It was ok for awhile. Noriko worked at a gas station. She danced again, in a the local ballet. It was ok. She dated a nice man.

And then the fighting had started.

Screaming in the night. Throwing things. The slapping, the breaking things. The fire. She set his car on fire. He caught her sniffing coke in the kitchen on the cutting board where she made their dinner.

He left.

Noriko was gone for three days.

Jill lived on peanut butter sandwiches. She lived on cheese. When the food ran out, she started to learn how to pick locks with a barrette and a bobby pin. She snuck into other apartments when they left to scrounge for food. She was ashamed…but she was starving.

She had one pair of shoes that she mended with duct tape when it separated from its sole. She had to wash her clothes in the sink. She stopped waiting for Noriko to love her again.

And they shut off the water one day. So Jill started washing herself in gas station bathrooms.

Noriko didn't come back. The cops came again. She was in the hospital. Overdose.

And Jill went to another home.

She was sixteen. She was sixteen and lonely. She was a string bean with dark hair that curled around her skinny face. Puberty hadn't been her best friend. She had a little run of acne and braces. The state home put the awful metal ones on her because her teeth were crooked.

She had pigtails and acne and skinny knees.

She would never be a dancer. She stopped crying at some point. She couldn't remember when. But she had just…stopped. It was easier to figure out how to fix your problems when you didn't cry. Crying was for babies.

And she couldn't the last time she'd been a baby.

Jill Valentine was sixteen and spending another month in a group home in the Big Apple. She figured it could be worse. She knew how to pick locks, she had taught herself how to throw a punch, she was scrappy and snarky and strong. She didn't need any damn friends.

So she avoided the other kids.

And she was so lonely it was palpable.

She wondered if she'd ever make a friend. Or if anyone would ever look over and be happy to see her. Or she'd ever find her place in the world.

She kicked her feet in the patch of dirty snow beneath her…and didn't shed a tear.

* * *

The morning of his birthday, he woke up feeling pretty good.

He was fourteen. So that was halfway to being a grown up. His friend at school had just had his bar mitzvah. Which meant you were growing into a man.

He glanced at himself in the dirty mirror of the bathroom. He saw big blue eyes and freckles and zits. He didn't see a man.

The shouting was starting.

Which meant the old man was awake and looking for a drink.

And it meant his hopes for a quiet birthday were dashed.

He dressed quickly, wincing. His back was still welted from the lashes the old man had thrown at him last night. It was worse when he was drinking. He started crying and blubbering and snotting and staring at pictures of his dead mother. He started shouting.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU CAME OUT OF HER AND KILLED HER! SHE WAS MY WORLD!"

And the old man would start hitting him.

They said he'd been a pretty successful cop once. A nice guy. Friendly and funny. Funny? He'd never heard the old man make a joke. Not in fourteen years.

The old man cried a lot. He slapped a lot. Sometimes it was lit cigarettes on the back of the arms when he was really wasted. But usually it was the belt.

The belt.

Someday he was going to come back here and take the belt to the old man.

And he wouldn't get up again.

He was a cop. So no one ever came.

No one ever bothered.

Until the morning of his fourteenth birthday. Because the old man chased him out into the street screaming. He chased him bellowing and shrieking. "YOU STOLE MY CIGS! GIVE 'EM BACK YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU LITTLE FUCKER! I'M GONNA STICK MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS!"

He'd stolen the old man's cigs. Yep. Why not? It was his birthday. And he wanted one.

He ran across the street. He ducked into the alley.

He started to get into the dumpster where he hid when the bullies at school chased him.

And he heard it.

A squeal of tires. A blaring horn. A thunk. A shout. Another shout. And then? Someone SCREAMING.

And the wail of the siren.

The old man had gone to the hospital.

And he'd gone to a group home.

He kept the cigarettes tucked in his coat. And spent his birthday sleeping in a room with four other boys. Not a sleepover. Not a party.

A moratorium. And the beginning of the rest of his life.

* * *

She heard the fighting.

The shouting.

She glanced up and across the yard.

The home was an old Victorian. It was peeling yellow paint and a big porch. It was a ratty little yard with a swing set and a see-saw. In the winter of 1990, it was also covered in snow. Upper New York had seen copious amounts of the white stuff that winter. It was a blizzard for weeks.

It was tampering back now but the piles of it remained like chilly white pockets of dingy gray mess. It meant hats and gloves and sweaters. She had big mittens on her hands and a sock hat on her head the color of piss.

She hated yellow.

Ugly color.

Her gloves were red.

And she hated that too. The color of blood. Blood and snow. Blood and coke. Blood and Noriko. She hated it all.

The fighting drew her eye.

Some fat kid getting slapped around by three bigger ones. He kept throwing up his hands like he'd hit back. They kept kicking him around. He was pudgy and kinda short. He had a floppy mop of strawberry blonde hair. His round little face was dusted with freckles and zits. He wore glasses coke bottle thick and taped together in two places.

They knocked his books out of his hand. She saw them land in a pile of snow. And the biggest of the bunch kicked him right into the mound on his butt.

Laughter.

Jill rose…and rolled her neck.

She wanted to be a cop. She'd decided that the day they'd taken her from Noriko for the last time. Officer Debra Morgan had made jokes. She'd been tall and blonde and pretty. And tough. So tough. She killed bad guys and saved the day. She visited Jill every day.

She was no bullshit.

She had a badge and a gun and POWER. She was a cop.

It sounded pretty fucking good.

Cops helped people. So Jill? She went on over to help the fat kid with the mop of hair.

The biggest bully was named Justin. He was seventeen and thought he was tough. He kept yelling about how he was getting out soon. When he turned eighteen, he was gonna "blow this shit show".

Jill could hardly wait.

He beat up on anything smaller than him.

Jill yelled, "Hey! Leave him alone, you fucking monkey!"

Because Justin looked like a monkey. Hairy and tall. Ugly. With a big flat face. A gorilla.

Justin turned to sneer at her. "Shut up, bean pole. Who asked you? Take your brace face and get the fuck outta here. Who asked you anyways?"

Jill sighed dramatically. The fat kid was getting to his feet. He was searching in the snow for his glasses.

And Jill said, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

And made the three bullies laugh.

The smallest one, Ernie, let out a hoot. "You better get outta here, Valentine! We ain't got no problem decking a girl!"

And the tall skinny one, Ben, laughed, "Yeah! Bitches get stitches!"

Jill lifted a brow at them. "Oh yeah? Who first then?"

Ben and Ernie glanced at Justin.

Justin said, "You better beat it, braceface. Or you'll join your fat faced friend over here on your ass. Unless….maybe you'd LIKE that! Maybe this fat tub of lard is your LOVER. YOUR BOYFRIEND?!"

Ernie was laughing like a donkey. "HUBBA HUBBA."

Ben chortled, "Beanpole and Fatty sitting in a tree. Beanpole yelled – You're too fat, get off of me!" It was singsong.

And stupid.

Because they were all so stupid.

Jill said, "That wasn't pretty clever, Ben. You're so smart. I bet it only took you until the fourth grade to learn how to TIE YOUR SHOES."

She glanced at his feet. His shoes?

Not tied.

And now SHE laughed. "I stand corrected."

Ben swung first. Jill ducked and it went over her head.

She planted her foot, drove from her hip, and decked him right in the face.

He went down shouting into the dirty snow.

The fat kid stopped and blinked. Ernie turned and shoved him over into the snow again. Jill called, "Stop letting them push you around!'

And Justin ran at her.

She waited, he came like a charging bull, and Jill jumped right just as he got to her. She grabbed his dirty jacket and his hair and kept on helping him go. She threw him out behind her. He yelped and went onto his face, sliding over the dirty wet ground.

Ernie turned back to push the fat kid again and Jill shouted, "PLANT YOUR FOOT, BALL YOUR FIST, AND SWING!"

And the kid did it. Ernie grabbed for him and the kid threw down his foot, twisted his hips, and put a full on straight right into that ferrety face. It was a GOOD hit. The kid had some power in those fat arms.

Ernie went OVER like he'd been smacked in the face by a plate. Ben grabbed for the fat kid and the kid spun and smacked him in the schnoze with his trapper keeper. It was some pretty good improvisation. The kid was fast on his feet when he put his mind to it.

Justin grabbed for her from the ground. Jill turned and kicked him right in the balls.

She swung her foot back and just…went for it.

Justin screamed like a girl. Ernie and Ben were bleeding and running. It was mayhem. They took off cursing and shouting. Justin was limping and crying and grabbing his junk.

A GOOD DAY.

Jill was laughing so hard.

She stepped up and helped the fat kid pick up his fallen books. He was shorter then her. But she was pretty tall and skinny. And he had a pudgy baby face. But she liked his smile. Good teeth. She was jealous of how straight and white they were.

She said, "I'm Jill Valentine."

"I think you're my best friend." And he laughed. It was a GREAT laugh. Kinda dorky and cute. He kept looking at her like she had the sun coming out of her ass. Which was a totally cool feeling. "You made them your BITCH."

"Me? You did that, dude. I just helped put the gorilla back in his cage."

They sat down on the swings now. The cold air had turned his pudgy little face pink. She figured under all that puppy fat, he was probably a nice looking kid.

He said, "It's my birthday. Shittiest birthday EVER. You know?"

"Yeah. I hear ya. Mine too."

"No shit!?"

"No shit."

"Well…hell…birthday buddies huh?"

Jill grinned a little. "Looks that way. You get any cool gifts?"

"Nah. I'm thinking of having a statue of you made though by a sculptor. Care to "chip" in?"

Jill froze. She blinked. He was grinning. So, the pudgy faced kid was funny. He was punny. He was pretty rad. Jill started laughing.

"That was AWFUL."

Pink faced, he chuckled and shrugged. "I do that. Sometimes."

"'You pun?"

"When the spirit moves me. You don't?"

"I actually do. Often. I would tell you a pun about floating…but it wouldn't go down too well."

They locked eyes. She liked his behind those big fat glasses. Pretty blue. Hers were blue too. But he had thick eyelashes. And the blue was swirly and mixed with gray. Hers were dark. And ugly.

He didn't think so. He thought her eyes were beautiful. He thought SHE was beautiful.

He said, "Thanks for telling me how to throw a punch."

"Dude, you smacked the shit outta those guys. I just gave you the bones to build it."

"You think maybe we can help each other out while we're here? You know, advice and teamwork or whatever?"

"You mean like…be friends?"

They held eyes in the cold snowy air.

He said, "Yeah. I could use one. I don't know about you, but I don't exactly got them growin on trees."

And both grinned.

Jill said, "Yeah. I think that would be ok."

"Cool."

He was trying to put his books back in his pack. His gloved fingers kept slipping on the wet books. She considered and said, "Hey…look here."

She pulled her little knife and took his glove off his hand. She cut the finger tips off. Curious, he let her.

She said, "Helps with traction, yeah? Keeps your hands warm but lets you have some grip."

"Oh, shit. Thanks."

"You bet."

The bell was sounding for dinner.

They both stood up. The kid grabbed his pack from the ground and tossed it on his back. He started toward the house. Jill called, "Hey!"

He turned back, "Yeah?"

"What's your name again?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. It's Leon…Leon Kennedy."

Jill grinned, "You ain't serious right?"

"Yep. Why?"

Dude. Dumbest name EVER. That's an old man name."

And so Jill made her first real friend. And it was a little less lonely in the house.

They spent the winter together in that group home.

He taught her how to do algebra. The kid was fucking smart as hell. Like genius dork smart. He was good with numbers and history and shit. Jill taught him to fight. She taught him to fix stuff. She was a WIZARD with a hammer. If there was a way to make something work, Jill took it apart and put it together until she found it.

Leon was pretty fat, so he wasn't really fast. But he started giving it his best shot. They ran around a lot and rode bikes when the home let them. He was also CLUMSY. He was always falling down. And falling over. He was the worst person alive on staying on his feet.

They played Dungeons and Dragons and cards. Jill was so good at cards. She beat him everytime. He suspected she was cheating but he didn't care.

They joked.

And joked.

AND JOKED.

Kennedy was so funny. He never stopped joking. He was all good humor and laughter. He punned about the weather and the world. He watched the news A LOT. He knew shit. He had some kind of interesting fact to tell you about almost everything.

They built a club house in the woods behind the group home. He planned it. He drew the design. They talked about it. And Jill built it.

Teamwork.

They were good at it.

They left notes when the other couldn't get there for some reason. They'd pin it to the tree.

The first one she found said:

_J-_

_If you get there before I do – don't give up on me…_

_I'll meet you when my chores are through – I don't how long I'll be._

_But I'm not gonna let you down – just you wait and see._

_And between now and then? Until I get there? Try not to blow up too much shit._

_-L_

Jill laughed and kept the note.

Jill showed him how to use a knife one afternoon. He was nervous about it. But she convinced him that fists might not always be an option. She was a ninja!

He watched her slice and stab. She said, "Some of it was TV, ya know? I watched this old Kung Fu movie when I got here. This dude with a knife? He just TORE IT UP. So, I stole this from Justin's bag one night…and just started copying the moves."

Jill was always stealing stuff. It was probably bad. But he didn't care about that either. She only took stuff from assholes and bad people. And she usually gave it to people that needed it anyway.

He got there first one evening. And her note was stuck to the tree for him.

_L-_

_If you get there before I do – don't give up on me._

_I'll meet you when my chores are through – I don't know how long I'll be._

_But I'm not gonna let you down – just you wait and see._

_But between now and then? Until I get there? Try not to break a leg!_

_-J_

She tried to teach him to pick a lock one afternoon but he was kinda hopeless.

However, when she stole Ernie's BB gun one day and they ran off with cans into the woods, she figured out where his magic was.

The second she passed him that BB gun – his face lit up. He turned on those cans and started shooting. He was pretty damn good. He hit four outta five on the first try.

"WHOA!"

"I know!"

"In those big fucking glasses too!"

Leon grinned, wide and happy. "Right? But you know what?"

"What?"

"I just calculated the wind and the resistance factor plus made some corrections for distance and the angle of my arms…and BOOM. It's MATH."

It was all math to this kid. She kinda loved him.

They had peanut butter sandwiches and practiced kicking and punching. She rolled a lot. He tried but fell over a lot and huffed. He was pretty fat.

And she kinda loved that too.

Jill liked to blow stuff up. She was always making bombs in cans. They'd set them off and run around laughing. She was able to make bombs out of the weirdest shit.

They talked about their families. They were having chips and hotdogs one day in the warm Spring air. They were sitting in their clubhouse and looking at nudey magazines they'd stolen from Justin's bag.

And laughing.

Jill said, "This girl has a TEARDROP on her bajingo!"

Leon chortled, "What?"

"You know! Her COOCH. Her crotch."

"Oh." Leon leaned over and looked at it. "It's bare! I didn't think girls were bare when they were all grown up."

Jill laughed and slapped his arm. "They aren't, Kennedy, you goof. She SHAVES it clearly."

"Oh. Haha! Shit. Why? Is the hair itchy?"

"Mine isn't." Jill shrugged. "You don't have hair on your junk or what?"

"I do. But I'm a dude."

"So?"

"Dudes are hairy."

She glanced at him. He wasn't hairy. He was just floppy reddish hair and grins. His arm hair was pale. She didn't see hairy. She laughed and said, "You think her bajingo is sad though?"

"Maybe. How do you make a bajingo happy though?"

"I dunno. Kiss it maybe."

And Leon blushed. He was so fucking cute. He blushed. Jill chuckled and shoulder bumped him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

Jill said, "I'm gonna be a cop someday."

She set the magazine down. She leaned on the wall. And she shared one of his stolen smokes with him. They were SO careful on smoking them. There were so few. And they only did it at night when they snuck out.

Leon nodded, "Me too. My old man was the WORST cop. I'm gonna be a GREAT one. You know? A hero."

She laughed a little. "Oh yeah? Because all cops are heroes."

"Oh, but I am. I'm gonna save the world. You just watch and see."

She grinned at him. "I believe ya. I do. Me? I just want to kick asses and take names. Maybe I'll join the service first or something. You know? Like jump out of planes and stuff. That could be cool."

"Oh, yeah? I don't know. I like the idea of just being a cop forever! I could see that as being the best fucking job. All guns and killing bad guys. Saving people. Could be cool. Just keeping them out of the dark, ya know?"

Kennedy hated the dark. The dark meant his Dad and the belt. It meant being alone and afraid. He wasn't AFRAID of the DARK exactly. He just didn't want to be in it…ever. He slept with a flashlight. She got it. She slept with her knife.

Jill nodded a little. "Yeah. For fucking sure. You'll be a great cop, Kennedy. Seriously. Like…you'll do more in one day then some cops do in like fifty years, ya know? Kill a thousand bad guys and put a thousand more in jail. Maybe you'll be like Magnum P.I. or MacGuyer. Maybe you'll like uncover a conspiracy and hunt down the bad guys…you'll have a big showdown and save the girl."

Leon chuckled. "In one day?"

"Why not? Life is weird."

"For real."

"And then like…you become a hero right? You start kicking asses and taking names. Maybe we could do it together. Like a team. Like Hawaii 5.0."

"Oh shit shit! Or Lethal Weapon. But you're Murtaugh."

"Pfft. I'm Riggs."

"You kidding? You aren't funny enough."

And now they laughed. They were always laughing.

Jill said, "It doesn't matter anyway right? Wherever we go…it's better then what we left behind."

"You bet. Don't look back right?"

"Right. You just trip on what's in front of you and fall on your face."

"Fuck yeah."

He saved up money he found and started mowing grass for spare bucks. Jill went around stealing it from the other shitty kids in the home.

On their birthday the following winter, they surprised each other with gifts.

He gave her a pocket knife with her name inscribed on it. It was a Swiss Army knife. He said, "You can pick locks with it AND kill people! You'll be like the master of it!"

"The master of unlocking?"

And they laughed.

It felt really good to have someone in her life that liked to laugh. That made stupid puns and didn't make things weird. That bought her a little knife and helped her kick the asses of bullies.

A friend. Maybe the first real one she'd ever had.

And she loved it.

She gave him a Zippo lighter. She'd bought it at the gas station down the road. It had a star on it. He looked at her and she said, "No more dark right? Not anymore."

It was totally great to have a friend.

And then Noriko came for her.

She was seventeen. She was old enough to be on her OWN. But she wasn't really. Not quite. Not yet.

She saw her show up. She had a new husband. She was "clean". She was apologetic. She was full of SHIT.

Jill ran from the home and into the woods. She climbed into the tree house.

And he came up after her.

She never cried.

But she was now.

She threw her arms around him. She clung. She whispered, "I don't want to go."

And Leon hugged her so tight. He said, "It's ok. Remember, don't look back right? What happens when we look back?"

And Jill sniffed and hiccupped a little, "We trip and fall on our face."

"That's right. Don't look back, Jill. Go jump outta airplanes. And don't fall on your face."

Jill laughed a little, wetly. She leaned back. He was so short. She had to bend down.

And she kissed him.

His face turned beet red. He barely breathed. She leaned back and petted his floppy hair. She said, "You're my best friend, Leon Kennedy."

And he squeaked a little, "You're the only friend, I ever really had Jill."

She climbed down the ladder. They stood in the woods in the warm summer.

And she said, "Keep that lighter right? No more dark."

"No more dark. Keep that knife. Remember…you keep unlocking doors? Eventually you'll walk through the right one."

Jill grabbed his hands, she squeezed. "I hope you're a big hero cop, Leon Kennedy. I hope you save a thousand people and get the girl and kill all the bad guys."

He sniffled. He nodded a little. "I hope you unlock a thousand doors, Jill. And kick a thousand asses. And blow up a thousand bad guys."

They hugged once more.

Jill backed up. She swiped her hands over her cheeks. "I'm gonna miss you, Riggs."

And Leon wiped his face too. "Me too…Murtaugh."

Jill whispered, "I'll come back. Maybe I'll come back."

"Yeah. Maybe. Maybe you will."

She said, "If you get there before I do…don't give up on me."

He laughed a little, wetly, "I'm not gonna let you down…just you wait and see."

"I'll miss you."

And she ran off into the woods without looking back.

Never look back…it's how you tripped and landed on your face.

But at the edge of the woods?

She kinda looked back anyway. And for that moment?

The whole revolved around one boy…and one girl.

And he whispered, "I'll miss you, too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One:**

**Part Two:**

**In which we find the girl in the friend zone, the boy with the soft bone, and a note from an old friend**

* * *

 

The summer of 1995, Jill Valentine was fresh out of Delta Force – where she'd been known for her demolitions expertise – and preparing herself to climb THE WALL.

The Wall was the climbing portion of the recruit obstacle course.

The police academy was mostly an old boys club. It was guys and sexist remarks and a lot of eye rolling. But she'd come from the army. She was immune.

She'd been a dude with tits in her unit.

She was a dude with tits in the academy.

Her long hair was in a sloppy ponytail. Her long legs were poking out the bottom of the navy shorts they issued. The gray shirt with the academy logo emblazed on the breast pocket was snug and tied in a thick knot at her waist. It left parts of her little flat belly bare.

The skinny knees and coltish string bean looks had blossomed into a curvy butt and hips that required strict diet and exercise to keep from turning into a buxom gal. The missing breasts of her youth had EXPLODED after she'd hit eighteen. She was all big boobs in a sports bra now, to her annoyance. Her body liked to be hourglass…which was fine…but it meant working out like mad to keep herself fit enough to fight.

The braces were gone, the acne having long fled and left a smooth porcelain countenance in its place. The face was pretty – girl next door – and graced with a fringe of feather dark bangs and pretty thick eyelashes. The robin's egg blue of her eyes were studying the wall now – trying to find a way to the top.

She'd fallen twice. She needed to get up the fucking thing. It was her Moby Dick. It was her classic nemesis. She was going to DESTROY it.

From behind her, a voice said: "I don't think staring at it will make it relent."

She looked over her shoulder.

Redfield.

Nice guy. All big teeth and smiles. Tall and kind skinny. He stepped up next to her.

She knew a lot about him. He was ACES with a pistol. He was funny. He liked stirring up enough trouble to get the evil stink eye on him. He was pranking the shit outta people and getting admonished all the time.

He did NOT like authority. She knew he'd left the service himself over it.

Nice face – gold skin and big blue eyes the color of the ocean. He had the start of a pretty rockin five o'clock shadow at 8 a.m. And long arms graced with big shoulders. He could pack on muscle if he wanted. But he was pretty lean.

She figured he was six one at least. He kind towered over her as they stood together looking at the wall.

Chris Redfield? He liked her face. Good face. Pretty without trying or being obvious. A little dip in that chin made for a thumb. A big bottom lip asking to be nibbled on.

He liked her.

She wasn't interested in anyone. Ever. She was almost cold. She joked, sure, and she was friendly enough. But she froze dudes at twenty paces when they even THOUGHT about trying to hit on her. She liked him though. Because he didn't bother.

He just slung shit at her like she was a guy.

So, she said, tongue in cheek, "I could take your route…and punch it."

Running joke.

He was so volatile. He punched everything he came across. He just got pissed when he couldn't figure it out and -pop- right in the face. He punched the wall. He punched the table when he couldn't get his pistol assembled fast enough. He punched his locker one afternoon when he couldn't get it open.

She'd come up behind him, reached around him, and picked the lock on it.

Deadpan, she'd lifted a brow at him, "Try brains before fists, big guy."

He kinda liked her.

Drolly, Chris mused, "Possibly. But to what purpose? Will punching it make it drop down so you can get your bubbly butt up to the top? Unlikely."

Jill pursed her lips, considering, "Hmm. Probably. But then again?"

She took a running step at the wall.

He watched her and she sprang up. Her determination was unparalleled. It was all hands and feet and fighting.

Amused, he ran to the wall and went up beside her.

They picked their way up. She watched his arms bunch and coil. It was a nice show.

About two thirds of the way up, he watched hers start shaking. She was flagging. She was going to drop. It was a long way down.

And Jill?

She HATED falling.

He watched her slip, watched her dangle. She cursed loudly with her sailor's mouth.

His hand shot out, it caught her flailing hand. Without looking at her, Chris jerked her arm and kinda…launched her. He launched her, just a little, up about two feet. She grabbed the wall and stuck like a burr.

He didn't look at her, he just kept on climbing.

Jill smirked a little. She grabbed the next protrusion and kept on going too.

She made it a few more feet and started falling again. Her foot slipped. She slung sideways.

He grabbed her belt and tossed her up again.

She said nothing, she just grabbed the wall and kept on going.

He reached the top first. He rose and looked down at her. No judgment. No jokes. He kept on standing there, just watching her.

She was three feet from the top. Her arms were shaking SO BAD. She reached, she missed, she went right and tried to hang on. She grappled, missed, and started to go backward.

He just put his hand down to her.

And she grabbed it.

A smack of palms. A slap of skin.

He didn't propel her. He didn't pull. He just held on.

She found her footing. She grabbed the wall.

She kept his hand in hers and finished climbing.

At the top, breathing and blowing hard, she slapped her thigh and hooted. She slapped his arm and did a little jig. She pulled him into it with her. Although he was AWFUL at dancing.

He kinda dug her.

And then?

She hugged him.

She put an arm around his waist and squeezed. "Redfield, you are a real pal. Beer?"

"Speakin my language, kid."

Buddies. Pals. Because he didn't let her fall.

They hung out. She was feisty and funny. She was all kinds of weird. She talked about the likelihood of aliens on Earth. She was OBSESSED with Dungeons and Dragons.

She liked playing darts. He was better.

She was better at cards.

They went up the wall again.

She only needed him to put his hand down to her once.

They ran the obstacle course with guns and vests. She was pretty good at finding cover with weird shit. Him?

ALL about kicking in doors.

He kicked them in, he cleared, he shot. He NEVER missed.

They didn't have time for boys or girls and romance. Stupid shit like that? Seriously. They got beers and hid in the quad getting drunk after simulations.

She drank him under the table and poured him into his dorm room laughing.

He talked a lot about his parents. They'd died when he was barely eighteen. His baby sister, too young for being alone, had become his.

Jill paused in mid swing. He was talking as they were rolling and fighting on the mat one day.

She paused in mid-swing, he caught her arm, and he slung her up. She went over his shoulder, rolled down his back and between his legs, grabbed his big thighs and JERKED. He went onto his back, Jill hooked a leg over his hips, and she pinned him.

Amused, he lay on his back, breathing heavy.

She leaned over him, sweaty. "You adopted your kid sister?"

"Yep."

"At EIGHTEEN."

"Yep."

"…ugh."

His face split into a big grin. "Not usually the first reaction."

"You boyscout. Really? Who does that?"

"A person with integrity. Clearly."

"Clearly." Jill offered him a hand up. He rose, getting his water bottle. They shared, eyeing each other.

Chris said, "I was in the Air Force. I was making ok money. She needed me. I signed some papers and we got an apartment. It kept her in school. She was twelve. It was the only thing I could do. I got temporary leave and we got her set up with a care taker while I was away. They reassigned me to a pine pony job as a pilot. Sucked. But it kept me stateside to take care of her."

"She's sixteen now?"

"Yup. And a good kid. Only gets in shit trouble occasionally. She smoked some weed and ran around some for a bit there. But she figured it out ok."

Jill watched his face. She laughed a little. "I'm kinda crushin on you a little, Redfield."

He grinned, amused. "Yeah?"

"Sure. You fucking boyscout. For a pansy ass wimp, you're a good dude."

"God damn, Valentine. That's like a big hug with words."

They never really used first names. It was all last names and good times. She felt like he was kinda her brother or something. It was good stuff.

She'd never had a brother.

They went up the wall again. He didn't have to pull her up at all.

She reached the top and did the jig. He did some kind of a weird wiggle walk and had her dying with laughter. And it was a good hug that time. All arms and squeezing.

Jill was such a good girl. Her superiors loved her. She did all the right things and said the right things and was patient and friendly.

Chris put his tongue in his cheek and gave her shit, "You're a brown noser, Valentine. How's that shit smell?"

"Like roses, Redfield. You should know since you're a pain in my ASS."

She was always doing that…making puns. It was cute. And kinda dumb. He liked it.

He got wasted as hell after they graduated the academy and picked a fight in a bar with some rednecks over a game of pool. Jill helped him whip some ass in the alley. She was his best friend.

She poked him into his bed with a roll of her eyes.

"Get it together, Redfield. You're gonna get yourself in a fucking mess one of these days."

"Pfft. I'm BULLETPROOF. I will just punch the mess in the face."

He was something else.

"You think you can just force the world to your will all the time?"

"Why not?"

"You can't just take what you want and punch the rest of it in the face, Redfield. It don't work that way."

"Fuck it. Only live once right? Regrets for assholes and pussies. I figure…grab it and punch it in the face. Looking back on what you lost out on? For losers with no balls."

Looking back got you nothing. Just falling flat on your face.

It wasn't the first time she'd thought about that kid in the years since she'd been in the home. She'd gone looking for him a few times. But a name and a group home in New York was like a needle in a haystack.

Amused, Jill shook her head. "You never look back?"

"Nope. Back gets you nothing but pain, kid. Forget it. Fuck it. And move on."

What a big liar. His parents were behind him. And he missed them all the time.

But he was full of shit and kinda great. Her buddy. So she patted his face.

"Get some sleep, tough guy. You graduated, punched some face tonight, had some drinks, lost at pool. Not a bad day."

"If I'd got some ass, it'd be perfect."

"Four outta five ain't bad, my friend."

"Night ain't over yet."

"Oh, yeah? You gonna get some ass from Johnson when he gets back here? He's kinda girly looking. So maybe he's your type."

She poked his blankets around him and patted his face. "Not Johnson."

He grabbed her wrist and spilled her down on him.

She blinked, opened her mouth to crack a joke, and he put his tongue in her mouth.

He rolled her to her back beneath him. He was all lips and tongue. She made a sound and her hands came up. She thought how stupid it was to have thought of him like a brother.

His hands were on under her skirt. It was denim and paired with cowboy boots. She felt her head spin. His fingers poked around her panties, sliding and gripping.

Jill gasped, and he popped his mouth off hers.

He found her over her panties. His fingers slid under them. She was shaking. She was excited. She kissed his ear.

And then?

He started snoring.

Jill froze. He was snoring in her ear.

Her mouth twitched. She shook her head. Her arms curled over his back and patted.

And she laughed. What a drunken doofus.

She rolled out from under him and left him snoring in his bed.

He was her pal. And such a goof. He probably wouldn't even remember the kissing or the groping. And it just made her laugh to think of it.

Amused, she keyed herself into her room.

Annette, her room mate, said, "Hey girl. Good night?"

"Sure."

"You look like somebody tossled you good. Redfield?"

"HAH. No. Just a fought a couple of drunks in the street. You?"

Annette shifted. A pretty girl with red hair and big eyes. "No luck. Tried to get laid. Failed. But somebody dropped by for you."

Jill lifted her brows and set her purse on her bed. "Yeah?"

"Yep. He left that." She gestured to desk. The desk had all kinds of stupid girl shit on it. Bobbleheads and pens with fluffy poofs on them, perfume, notebooks with shiny covers, and pictures of friends and pets.

And a letter.

Just a little folded letter.

Jill picked it up, curious, "Who left it?"

"Uh…tall guy? Blonde? BIG blue eyes." Annette – cop – sorta bad with descriptions. "Rookie, clearly. Just starting out here. I told him it was our last night. He looked kinda sad. But then he wrote that. You know some rookies?"

"Not off the top of my head." Jill perched on the desk. She opened the letter.

And nearly died.

_J-_

_If you get there before I do – don't give up on me._

_I'll meet you when my trainings through – I don't know how long I'll be._

_But I'm not gonna let you down – just you wait and see._

_Between now and then? Until I see you? Don't blow up too much shit._

_P.S. I still have the lighter._

_-L_

Her hand slapped to her collarbone. She laughed. Her eyes sprang with tears. She said, excitedly, "How long ago was this!?"

"I dunno. A couple hours? Why?"

Jill opened the door to the room. She raced down the hallway. She hurried over the campus laughing.

She hurried up the stairs to the Raccoon Hall – the dorm for the rookies just coming on.

But the new class wasn't in yet. Not yet. It was empty.

And so she moved to the desk where the Resident Advisor was getting his shit ready. She said, "I need to leave a note. Is that ok?"

"Sure? Why not. For who?"

"New recruit. Kennedy?"

"Sure? Whatever."

Jill wrote quickly, laughing. She wrote:

_L-_

_I took a job in Raccoon City. Special Tactics and Rescue. I'm kinda a BIG deal._

_If you get there before I do – don't give up on me._

_I'll meet you when your trainings through – I don't know how long that'll be._

_But between now and then, until I see you again? Try not to fall off that wall too much. How in the hell could YOU possibly have passed the obstacle course!?_

_P.S. I still have the knife._

_-J_

She left him the note. And she hurried back to her room, laughing.

In the morning, Chris helped her load up her gear onto the bus to Raccoon City. He shifted a little and said, "Ok…so…maybe I owe you an apology."

Jill, amused, looked at his face. "How so?"

"I groped you."

Oh. This was too good. Fucking boyscout. He was going to apologize for feeling her up. She kinda loved it.

"Mmm. You pig. I should smack the shit outta you."

Chris grinned a little. "No hard feelings?"

"You kidding? It was a kiss, Redfield. Not rape. It wasn't too bad…your breath though? Awful."

And they laughed, climbing onto the bus. They settled into a seat together.

She watched him disappear a quarter. He sure did like stupid magic tricks. She looked out the window as the bus rolled off to the main road.

And wondered about Leon Kennedy.

Chris said, "Watch this."

And he popped a flower out of his hand for her. She smirked, impressed. He winked at her.

She put her head on his shoulder as they hummed down the highway toward the future. It felt really good to have someone in her life that just got her. That made her laugh and did stupid magic tricks. And didn't make things weird.

That helped her kick the asses of bullies.

A friend. A real one.

The second one she'd ever really had.

And for a moment?

The whole world revolved around one boy…and one girl.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So, this is little story is just so cute. It's fun. And kinda fluffy. It will eventually run on toward other stuff. This is just love story building so far. Thanks for the notes and the reviews and the pms regarding this little story. I didn't expect it to gather much traction honestly. So, I'm glad it's well liked._

_I love nothing more then a nice love triangle. As we see here, no one is too far in yet and so things are just fun and cute. Two boys battling for a girl's affection._

_Slainte._

_-TLF_

… _._

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_**DISCLAIMER: RESIDENT EVIL IS SOLELY OWNED BY CAPCOM. ALL CHARACTERS USED HERE DO NOT RESEMBLE ANYONE LIVING, DEAD, OR UNDEAD. *cough*** _

* * *

_**Part One: The Ghosts That Haunt...** _

* * *

_**Chapter Three: In Which We Find A Boy who's a rookie – A Boy who's a menace – And a Girl with a choice to make** _

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Leon Kennedy dropped his keys twice trying to get out the door.

He was so late. LATE. Just terribly late. But it wasn't his fault. It wasn't.

From the moment he'd rolled into the RPD that morning, Chris Redfield had set about making his life fucking miserable. The hazing had started in full force. That's what happened when you were hanging with Jill Valentine – you got an angry, jealous, bad haircut wearing monkey fucking up your world.

The first part was pulling shit detail as a traffic cop downtown during the parade. Eight hours of directing cars and excited patrons to good parking spots and local flair. He had to wear little white gloves and a stupid hat. He had a whistle, like a crossing guard, and a sign.

Redfield out ranked him, big time, so when he'd stuck his head into the bullpen and bellowed, "YO! Kennedy! You're just the guy we were looking for. Get to use all your fancy training today, kid. BIG job for you."

Asshole.

Big job indeed.

He'd gotten back from that shit detail to find out he was on the chore wheel –twice- for bathroom maintenance. So, he'd spent the second half of his afternoon scrubbing shitters and urinals. This put him into the six o'clock hour already behind. He had to fill out and file eighteen reports before he could even get off duty.

He was still hammering away at the typewriter when Redfield and the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. crew came by his desk. Chris stopped and glanced down at him, "Long day, rookie?"

"Nope. It was great. Learned a lot."

"…sir."

Leon stopped typing and glanced up at him. "What?"

"It's sir. I'm your superior. So, it's…learned a lot, sir."

Mother fucker.

Leon licked his teeth. He wanted to say about eighteen different things. Did he? No. He glanced over at Jill where she was laughing by the fountain with a little bit of a thing with short hair. And he kept his peace.

Instead?

"Of course, sir. I apologize. Won't happen again. Anything else I can help you out with before you head out?"

Chris snorted a little and patted his shoulder, hard. Thump, thump, thump. "Nah, you enjoy your night rookie. Seriously. Big day tomorrow. I need somebody to canvas the neighborhood for witnesses regarding that homicide on Baker. Should be a total shit show. That street is nothing but hookers and junkies. Good luck finding a reliable witness statement."

It was official: Chris Redfield was the biggest douchebag that ever lived.

EVER.

"Sounds like a real opportunity to expand my interrogation techniques, sir. I'm happy to help."

Chris had to admit, the kid was unflappable. They eyed each other narrowly. Kennedy kept on smiling but those eyes? All kinds of boiling rage.

Chris' were twinkling happily. "Hmm. Good attitude, kid. I like the enthusiasm. Be here at six sharp ok? I have a mountain of old reports that need typed up. I see you're a whiz there on that beast of a machine. GOOD. It'll make my life easier. Take it easy, rookie."

Chris hailed Jill as he walked off, "Hey, Valentine! You ready? I got a game of darts with your name ALL over it!"

Jill grinned a little and shook her head, "Can't. I'm on until eight thirty remember? Working the Gussman bombing."

"So what? Blow it off. It'll be there in the morning."

Oy, she thought, Redfield…lazy.

"No, you lazy bastard. Some of us like to do our work."

"Pfft. It's why we have rookies!" He grinned and shot a finger gun at Kennedy. "Isn't that right kid?"

Jill lifted both brows. She watched Chris and Forrest leave laughing with Joseph and Kevin Dooley. She shifted her gaze back to Leon.

He was typing furiously now at his desk.

Moving to join him, Jill perched on the edge of his desk. He didn't quite look at her which was interesting. "Do I want to ask?"

"Just hazing the new guy, clearly."

His tone was something. Jill lifted a brow at him. "Up here, Kennedy. Not down there."

His eyes shifted and lifted to her face. And there it was. The arrow of it. It zipped and thrummed where it stuck in his breast for her. Ok. It was worth it to let that Neanderthal haze him. Worth every shitty minute.

He said, quietly, "I've missed you, Jill. A lot."

Touched, she tucked a piece of his shaggy hair behind his ear. "Yeah. Me too. You wanna get out of here?"

He grinned a little and sighed. "I'd looove to. But this shit pile of reports would just be waiting here for me in the morning. You're on for a little longer?"

"I am. About an hour."

"Ok. Great. So, I'll finish up here and swing by your place to grab you after I'm done?"

"Deal." Jill watched him shift his attention back to the reports. She saw his mountain was four times as big as the others. Curious, she lifted the top one. She scanned it and narrowed her eyes. She shifted to the second, scanned it…and pursed her lips.

Redfield.

Little jerk.

Jill shook her head a little. "I'm gonna go run and change and finish my own shit pile of paperwork. Nine?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

With a wink, Jill pushed off the desk and moved toward the locker room. He watched her, impressed with how she moved. There was some kind of lithe grace to her that said training. Her short little bob of dark hair complimented the pretty big blue eyes. The eyes were the face with her, clearly. They were ringed in thick lashes and big enough to drown in. Coupled with that pouty little mouth and dip in her chin? Gorgeous.

He was halfway through the stack when she came back from her office to head out.

Her hand tapped playfully over the back of his uniform as she passed by his desk. "You got forty five minutes, rookie. Don't be late."

Laughing a little, Leon looked up to crack a joke. Since he was always late for everything. He was late on his first day of work. Late for his interview. Late for his funeral, most likely.

He flicked his eyes to her and back to his typewriter.

And stopped.

He stopped and looked back at her.

Some little blue tube top atop the tiniest black skirt ever created and knee high black boots. A little white sweater was looped around her waist. With the exception of her shoulder holster, the rest of her was…bare.

It was golden skin and freckles. It was lithe muscle and long legs. It was murder.

Probably murder.

Leon found out he couldn't even speak. Nothing. Zilch. Mute.

She winked at him from one of those big blue eyes ringed in sooty eyeliner and grabbed her little white and red umbrella from the station by the door. She turned a little, "Forget picking me up, ok? Meet me at J's?"

He nodded, apparently still unable to form a cohesive sentence.

Jill hurried out into the rain and the big doors slid closed behind her.

Leon leaned back in his rolling chair. He blew out a heavy breath. He rolled his neck and adjusted himself where he sat. Ok. So that's where that was headed.

It shouldn't surprise him.

He'd gotten his first real wet dream thinking of her. Why not continue to throw a bone anytime she was around? Lord. This was a dangerous game to play with her. They'd been so close in that group home. Peas in a pod. It was risky to play into a love affair with her especially with Redfield hanging around like a dragon at the gates.

If he kept pursuing her, Redfield was going to make his life hell. Not that it mattered. Guys had been dogging him for as long as he'd been breathing. First because of his size, then because of his weight, and after? Jealousy. Because he'd been the best at everything.

He'd never backed down to a gorilla faced fucker before and it wasn't going to start now. Aloud, Leon avowed, "Bring it, you son of a bitch. Let's see who caves first."

He went to the locker room to change into some street clothes.

Because he was aware of his pseudo-date that night, Leon Kennedy had packed himself no less than three different options for what to wear. Casual: A navy t-shirt and jeans with Adidas. Casual- Dressy: A baby blue men's dress shirt, rolled up on the forearms, left unbuttoned over a white undershirt, and paired with khakis and leather sandals. Dressy-Hip: The same men's dress shirt, still rolled up on the forearms, paired with a fantastic silk tie and a dove gray vest. He'd throw it on with the jeans and a pair of black boots.

He stood too long considering. Jill didn't care.

Who was he kidding?

Redfield probably had four shirts in various colors and a pair of camouflage shorts. He doubted he stood around debating different styles before a date. He SINCERELY doubted it. What had Jill said? Lazy.

Redfield was so lazy.

Maybe he didn't even bother to shower.

"Alright," Leon pep talked himself as he changed, "So, we go OPPOSITE, Redfield. Compare and contrast right?"

He slipped on the dressy-hip and felt good about it.

But now he was late. So, he was really pissed after dropping his keys twice. He ran out into the rain and leaped in his Jeep. The engine kicked over on the black beauty and sent him careening down Main Street.

His tape deck was blaring Bon Jovi at the top of its lungs.

He left it, rocking out while he shifted gears and headed for the bar.

He tossed his hair a little to get it out of his face and caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror.

The old man would hate his hair. He knew that. It was why the haircut had first come to be, actually. Because the drunk ass old fool would have hated it. If he wasn't so washed up now, that being crippled wasn't even the worst part about him.

He was a joke. He'd been hit in the street that day. It had left him crippled. His legs didn't work. It was wheelchair bound for the old man after that. Wheelchairs and anger. The drinking got worse. He didn't bother to come get Leon from the home.

So when he'd turned eighteen, Leon had never looked back.

But he knew the old man was alive. He'd heard he was living out his days in some home somewhere for the infirm. Too lazy, too stupid, too weak to get on with his life without bitching and looking for a crutch.

Dumb old man.

But the "girl" hair Leon enjoyed would make him angry wherever he was. "You faggot! You dress like a fucking girl! You a girl!? Your mama died birthing some queer?"

The old man as progressive as a right wing redneck could be. He practically had an elephant from the Republican Party crammed up his prejudiced ass. Sometimes, Leon wished he was gay just to spite that old bastard.

Leon swung the Jeep to a spot outside on the street by the bar.

He leaped off into the rain and headed for the door.

Inside, Chris was whooping. "See this, Valentine? DEFEATED."

Jill shrugged, unconcerned and sipped her beer. She glanced at her watch and out into the rain. He was late. Was he coming? Chris was clearly being a douche to him. Maybe he was tired of dealing with him.

Offhandedly, Jill mused, "You wanna tell me why you keep picking on Kennedy?"

Chris laughed a little and helped himself to her beer. Too lazy to order his own, clearly. "He's a rookie, Val. That's it. Don't get your panties in a bunch because he's your buddy."

"Hmm. Doesn't have anything to do with being jealous right? That would be stupid. You're not the jealous type, right Redfield?"

He held her narrowed gaze. They kept on staring for a long moment.

And he finally laughed and turned back to play darts with Forrest.

Little jerk.

Jill turned on her stool as the door opened.

He stepped in shaking his wet hair and there was that zip in her belly. It felt like a flutter of butterfly wings. It made her grin. As he crossed the bar, Jill thought there probably wasn't anything cuter in it than him. Probably. Including Phil the bar owners Cocker spaniel Lump that lived behind the bar.

Swiping water off his face and shaking his arms to send droplets of it flying, he eased up to the bar with her. It was packed, standing room was limited. They pressed close to hear each other over the music and the conversation that swirled around them.

She grinned, "You're late."

"I'm always late. Hadn't you heard?" Leon leaned on the bar and ordered a scotch. "Jill?"

"Yep?"

He put his lips beside her ear, "This outfit you're barely wearing? It's asking for me to grope you."

Delighted, Jill turned her face toward him with a little laugh. Their cheeks brushed. Their noses brushed. She said, quietly, "….I know."

And had him grinning at her.

"Clever girl."

"I have my moments." She looked down at him and back at his face. "You look like a GQ cover model."

"Yeah? I was going for dressy hip."

Her hand not holding her beer lifted. It slid over his tie and rubbed the silky material between her fingers. His hand not holding his scotch settled on the edge of the bar beyond her hip. He was leaning over her.

Forrest laughed a little beside the dartboard, "That dude is  _leaning."_

Chris turned a little. They both stared for a moment. And Chris laughed, sharply. "Goddamn, rookie. That's  _leaning."_

"Yup. He's leaning on Valentine. What's the game plan?" Forrest pursed his lips, tapping them with his dart.

"Operation Raccoon City, dude. Destroy and conquer."

"Copy that."

"Game on."

"Game, fucking, on."

They both laughed and started planning exactly how to get revenge on the floppy haired rookie cop currently  _leaning_ all over Jill Valentine.

Jill kept stroking that silky tie in her fingers, "This is nice. Your bottom of the barrel paycheck afford you shit like this?"

Leon rubbed their noses together and had her toes tingling in her boots. "Nope. That's overtime pay, sweetheart. I can't be badly dressed out in public with the RPD royalty, can I? I'll never live it down."

Their mouths brushed as they talked. It was probably the best feeling she'd ever had. Her lips tingled like her toes. Her mouth turned up into a wicked little grin. "Officer Kennedy?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"You wanna go back to my place and have some overtime?"

He threw back the rest of the scotch. She fire bombed her beer. And his voice broke, just a little when he answered, which…made her NUTS for him. "…you're my superior, ma'am, I'm pretty sure I'm here for whatever you need."

"Mmm. There could be groping involved, Officer. Possibly tongue kissing. It might be outside your job parameters."

She watched his adam's apple bob. She rolled her lips around. They both had dilated eyes.

It was pretty awesome.

He murmured, "Serve and protect, ma'am. I'm here to serve."

Her face was so hot. The bar? The people? The crowd of bodies and noise? The smoke?

No…the rookie.

"Leon?"

"Mmm?"

"You should show me your car."

"Yep. Yeah. Ok. Sure. I should do that. Just…yep." He slapped some money on the bar and grabbed her hand. She was laughing as he jerked her off the stool. She was still laughing as he practically carried her one armed out of the bar.

Joseph arched his brows. "The rookie stole your girl."

Chris hit the bullseye again, rolling his eyes. "It's temporary. That girl is all flash and sizzle. He'll burn out for her quick enough."

"You planning to keep her by what? Being her steady old rock?"

"Why not? Fire fades out, my friend. Rocks? They just keep on rolling."

"….that's not entirely unintelligent, Redfield. Consider me impressed. You Confucius?"

"I am. Inside, Speyer. I am. Indeed." And he was also jealous. Which pissed him off to no end.

Outside, in the soft rain, Leon bumbled his keys twice. Jill was laughing. Her hands were under his vest and stroking. His face was on fire.

He laughed, a little hoarse, "So this is my Jeep."

"It's nice. Leather seats?"

"Hah. Yep. Leather."

"Soft top?"

"You bet. For…uh…"Her hands tugged at his shirt and were playing at his belly. "Uh…nice days. Good days. Warm? Something."

A little light headed, Jill nipped his chin while he crammed the key in the door.

Her fingers skimmed his right hip inside his jeans and he grunted and jerked open the door. "Just…get in there. In. The Jeep."

"In?"

"IN. Hurry. Yes. Jeep."

One word answers. Oh lord. Jill slid her hands into the back of his pants and grabbed his ass. What followed was a lot of laughing and rustling clothes. Someone grunted. Someone laughed. And Jill spilled back into the Jeep. Her legs poked out until he spun her around while she laughed and slammed the door.

He skipped, twice, and all but ran to the driver's seat.

The door of the bar opened and along came Chris Redfield to shit on his parade.

"Rookie!"

Leon was half hopped in his seat. He levered himself up to look over the roof of the Jeep. "Yeah? Sup?"

"Sup? Sup is a robbery homicide on Sanderson. Sup is I want you to handle the call."

Was he fucking kidding?

"I'm off duty."

Chris lifted his brows. "Are you? I'm pretty sure you're on duty for another…" He checked his watch, "Eighteen minutes."

Mother…fucker.

Leon stared at him. The window of the Jeep rolled down.

Pink cheeked, Jill laughed a little. "Hey Redfield. What's happening?"

"Sorry, Valentine. I need your boyfriend here to do his job. They need a uniform over on Sanderson at the robbery homicide."

Jill gave him a long look. He held it, blandly. She pursed her lips. "Fine. I will go with him."

Leon swung into the driver's seat, fuming. Jill touched his arm, just once. "A minute? Ok?"

"Sure."

She slid out of the seat and circled her finger at Chris. He stuck his hands in his back pockets and followed her over to the side of the bar…where she proceeded to shove him into the wall. Hard.

He grunted, cursing a little. "Seriously?"

He said nothing.

She smacked his chest – twice. "Seriously!?"

"What?" It sounded a little angry.

Good. She was pissed.

"You slit stopping me, Redfield? Seriously? All the times I've been your wingman here and you're slit stopping me?"

He couldn't stop the laugh. "What the hell is slit stopping?"

"It's the female version of cock blocking, you little asshole. You fucking with my getting a piece of ass?"

"No." She went to smack him again. He held up a hand to stop her. "NO! I'm not. They need a uniform, Valentine. He's it. He's still on duty! It's not my fault!"

Jill put her finger in his face, glaring. "Chris Redfield, I swear to god. If you keep up this petty shit, I'm going to tank every date you have between now and forever. I will fart in a mason jar and put it in your bedroom like an air freshener. I will leave tampons in the trash unwrapped. I will embarrass you so badly at work that you can't even show your face. Don't slit stop me, don't you dare."

"I'm not." She glared at him. He shifted uncomfortably. She kept on throwing daggers from those big blue eyes. And he kinda shouted it, "I'M NOT!"

"Get off his back, Redfield. I mean it."

"You protecting your fat friend again, Valentine? From the big bad bully?"

Jill reached forward, grabbed a handful of pec, and twisted. Chris squeaked and smacked at her hands. "OK! OK! Christmas cookies made from shit! FINE! Lay off with the titty twister!"

"Lay off with the jealousy. You're being stupid. You want me for yourself?"

He met her burning glare. He blinked. She waited.

Finally, he muttered, "….no."

"There. See. So, knock it the fuck off. You just don't want me hanging with other dudes. And if the answer is really yes?"

He was rubbing his sore chest. She arched both brows. "It doesn't matter. You let that ship sail, Redfield. You did that. Don't come sniffing around my panties now that you see another dog in your yard. And you leave him alone. He's my friend. SO ARE YOU. Unless you keep being stupid. Then you're my enemy. And I destroy my enemies."

"That sounds like a threat."

"It is. Don't be stupid. Go back inside, find a nice chic, throw some bone down to her and go home. Leave it alone."

Jill passed by him. Chris called after her, "You sayin you aren't interested in my bone?"

Jill rolled her eyes. "Right now? No. Your bone is acting about twelve years old."

"The one in that Jeep with you is about the same age. Woulda thought you'd like some prime young cock."

"Grow up, Chris." The first time she'd ever said his name. Ouch. It felt like his mom admonishing him. "Seriously. You are the dumbest man alive about chics. Seriously."

Jill leveraged herself up into the Jeep. She closed the door and it pulled away from the curb.

Chris muttered under his breath as he went back into the smoky bar. Idiot. What the fuck was that?

Forrest was watching him, grinning.

"What?"

"You are so dumb."

Barry called out, from the pool table, "RIGHT!? DUMB!"

Chris rolled his eyes. He picked up his darts and his beer. "Blow me, you turds. And shut the fuck up. Play darts or fuck off."

The laughter around him was well deserved, admittedly. It was a fairly jealous display. He was kinda surprised at himself. He wasn't the type for it. But Jill was his buddy. And she was throwing herself at some formerly fat foster kid with a Shaggy from Scooby Doo haircut and overblown fashion sense. Stupid.

He'd just have to be more tactful at splitting that up is all. The punch in the face Redfield method was failing here. So, maybe it was time to try a little fat foster kid method.

He considered it.

Yep. He was going to have to SEDUCE Jill Valentine.

Now he just needed to figure out how in the HELL he was supposed to do that.

…..

The Jeep was parked under the heavy willow tree near the park. The branches tickled the soft roof with dripping fingers of green. The rain cocooned around it with a steady patter of sound.

It was almost midnight. The crime scene had been a mess. Jill had helped the investigating officer's while Leon had done his damn duty and stood guard. The night had worn on with tents to cover evidence and interviewing witnesses.

It seemed pretty straightforward: drug deal gone wrong. A dealer dead in the street when he'd tried to scalp a client. A couple extra bucks had gotten him a few quick sticks from a shiv right into the side of his neck.

He'd bled out all over the pavement.

They'd finally left the crime scene just before midnight.

Leon asked, quietly, "You wanna go home?"

"No. No, I don't. You?"

"No. Where?"

"Park."

And here they were.

In the quiet interior of the Jeep, Leon filled the backdrop of soft rain with the sound of his voice. "He's into you, Jill. Big time. You guys have something happening there. You want me out of the way? I came here to see you again. It doesn't have to be more than that."

Jill stared out the rainy windshield for a moment. This was the kid who'd let her fight beside him all those years ago. He was the guy who let her drive his flashy Jeep from the crime scene without even blinking. And he was willing to get out of the way to let her be happy.

She didn't know exactly how she felt about Chris. But she knew how she felt about him.

She said nothing. She turned and hiked up her mini skirt. She shifted around the steering wheel and the gear shift in the dark and straddled him.

Her hands petted, they peeled back layers, and her mouth settled on his with a singular purpose. His slid up the outside of her thighs and curled up her back.

It was heavy panting and wet suckling. The spill of her skin in the moonlight. The feel of his mouth, his hair, his breath. It was a blending of sounds and skin. Nobody groped, not really, it was more and less and everything.

Touching, god yes, and kissing. Lots of heavy petting. The column of her throat, the spill of fingers against the smooth skin of his back, the shirt and vest went smooth under her stroking palms. Her shoulder holster was dangling around her belt. Her hands on his face. His on her naked spine under her top.

It was better then she'd thought. Better. Because under the rush of want for him was the slow thrill of the friend who'd been the first in her life to ever really look at her. The first boy she'd ever kissed - the same one she kissed now.

They separated, panting. Two sets of blue eyes in the silver spill of moonlight.

And Jill whispered, quietly, "You're not in the way. You wanna be in the way?"

She dropped her mouth to kiss him. It was soft and needy. It was trembling.

He breathed, "Yeah. I wanna be in the way."

Jill stroked his face, fingers and mouth. His hands roamed her thighs, her back, her neck and shoulders. They spilled together finally in a whole body press.

And because they both wanted to spill naked and desperate into the other, they clung instead, breathing slow and heavy.

He dropped her off like a gentlemen and Jill eased into the apartment. The witching hour was long and the dark glistened almost wetly along the floor and the walls of the kitchen as she crossed through toward her room. She was setting her purse down and easing off her boots when Chris spoke and scared the shit out of her, "Jill?"

She turned, unhooking her shoulder holster from her belt, "What?"

And he could tell she was still irritated at him. He just wasn't sure how to get the point across here without getting into the irritation. So, he did what he'd been doing since he met her and started waiting at the top of that wall for her to climb it; he pushed her a little in the right direction.

Jill laid her gun on the dresser in her room. She eyed him in the moonlight. He was in his sleeping pants. His hair looked mussed by harried fingers. The silvery shadows on his chest highlighted the nice show of muscles and just a touch of the right amount of chest hair.

She queried, "What is it, Redfield? I had a long night. Thanks to you I'm also hard up and pissed off. So just spill your beans and beat it, would ya? I'd like to get to bed sometime before dawn here."

He had to consider what the former fat friend would do here. He'd been playing this all wrong so far. What was the right move?

Jill shifted toward her closet, padding over the carpet on bare feet.

And Chris knew what the answer was here.

He stepped into the room.

Jill took her uniform out of the closet and turned to lay it on the dresser.

And there he was. Just RIGHT THERE. She bumped into him. "Dude, what the f-"

"I lied."

"What?"

"The answer? It was yes."

"The an-"

She lost the uniform as he took her face. It hit the floor, her back bumped into the wall, and he settled his mouth to hers without a seconds hesitation.

Her hands came up, locked over his biceps, and her mouth opened. It was more surprise, more instinct, then anything else. But the second she let it, his tongue took over the charge, and Chris Redfield kissed her like he pushed her up that wall – no hesitation, no chance for retreat; he just held on.

Jill made a small sound of surprise. He didn't grope. He didn't force. He just gave it everything he had. That was the thing about Redfield – lazy, yep, and then bowling you over while you weren't even looking.

Her gasping filled the space between as he finally gave her mouth back to her and stepped back.

"The rookie your boyfriend, Jill?"

Jill made another small sound.

"Yeah. Didn't think so. You decide he's the only one you want, I'll get out of the way. Until then? I'm in. I'm in the way. So, you have a choice to make. Take your time," Chris cupped her face and turned it back to his. Testing them both, he dropped his mouth to hers again, "I'm not going anywhere."

Her fingers curled over his pecs and gripped. Her mouth? It opened for him.

Yeah, he thought, she had a choice to make here.

But he made it a little harder for her by pluming the wet heat of that waiting mouth again until they were both breathless. As he let go, her realized her leg had lifted and slid over one of his and the arch of her foot was curved against his calve. He'd snuggled in against her while they'd touched. He brushed there now and brought her face flush with the heat of it.

"Yeah. Not going anywhere. Slow right? That's my thing. But he can't have you without a fight, Jill. That's just how it is has to be. Maybe he's all over you. But so am I. So, I'm not going anywhere."

Chris let her go and stepped back. Jill sorta stumbled and grabbed on to her desk to keep from falling. Aroused, amused at them both, Chris intoned, "Get some sleep, Val. You gotta busy day ahead of you. Lot's of important things to do."

Jill made that sound again, bringing a laugh from him.

"Yeah. Sounds about right. I'm gonna get jump back in my bed for a few more hours. Unless," He lifted both brows, "You want me to just jump in yours instead?"

Oh, her face. All flushed skin. She glanced at the bed, at him, at the bed, at him and cleared her throat twice before she could answer. "Uh…I think…I just…um….we should slow down a sec here…just…oh lord…"

She fanned her face.

"So, is that a yes or a no?"

Jill laughed a little, "You're kind of a bastard, Redfield. Just sayin."

"Still not an answer."

She knew it wasn't an answer. They both knew it.

It made him grin.

"Right. Good night, Jill. Sleep tight."

He closed the door quietly as he left.

Jill fell to her face on her mattress, made a sound of distressed amusement, and laughed into the comforter.

Of course. OF COURSE. She went from no men, to two men in forty eight hours. Two of them, neither with the intention of getting out of the way of the other one. Two of them with their hooks in her in various ways.

She was trapped between them. She was screwed.

But she WASN'T screwed. By either of them.

The eternal struggle.

She was stuck.

She was a Jill sandwich.


End file.
